Tainted Red
by scaredfox
Summary: A morally ambiguous and somewhat psychopathic teen ends up reborn as a female version of Gaara in an attempt to find out what happens after death, and it all goes horribly downhill from there. Self-insert. Dark themes. Not to be taken too seriously.
1. Round Two, I Guess

**Self-inserts and genderbends are basically the bane of fanfictions, and are probably as beaten to death as the time-travel trope, but I just couldn't help myself from writing another one! I've been wanting to write a bit more of a funnier borderline-crack fic that wasn't all serious like my others, hence this was born. However, it is rated M for a reason and will contain lots of strong language, sadism, violence and all that jazz. Enjoy, and remember not to take it too seriously.**

 **Cover by the lovely SunakiSabakuno on Deviantart.**

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Round Two, I Guess

Oh, for fuck sake.

I didn't kill myself in one life just so that I could be reborn into another. Reincarnation, really? Was that God's sick way of punishing me for killing myself—making me live through yet another soul-draining existence? I mean, if he's expecting me to use this life as a way to redeem myself, then, well, _h_ _e's wrong._

I mean, I probably shouldn't spend this life in bed like I had in my last. Depression was a bit of a bitch (and my parents never quite seemed to understand that was why I didn't have the motivation to shower for days at a time, but whatever) but I'm not sure if that was really what "threw me over the edge" and drove me to commit suicide. I wasn't really the wow-my-life-is-so-awful type of person—not anymore, at least—despite the fact I lived in a very dysfunctional and borderline abusive home. I had just kind of eventually reached a point where I stopped caring about, well, _anything_ and had practically convinced myself that nothing was actually real.

This probably wasn't the best idea, since I may or may not have lead myself to believe I was utterly indestructible and death didn't matter because I wouldn't actually die, which had lead me to my current predicament.

Being fucking _reborn_.

Yes, I died through an experimental suicide. I wanted to see what was on the so-called _"other side"_! The details of how aren't that necessary—I made it look like an accident, so maybe my family would grieve slightly less. Maybe more. I'm not entirely sure, I guess. I feel bad for the driver who will have to live with the trauma of inadvertently killing me though. _Don't worry, dude. I wanted to die._

I mean, at least I found out what came next though.

Now just came the fear of wondering what time period I had been born into. (Please God don't tell me the Dark Ages or Victorian Era; at least give me some Ancient Rome or the sixties if you're going to be cruel enough to not allow me the sweet release of death!) And whether or not I was a boy. Oh god, I did not want to be a boy. I don't care if I have less societal beauty standards I'm expected to meet!

Everything was blurry, anyway. I couldn't figure it out yet. And everything was so _loud._ Lots of talking, lots of which was muffled. Lots of movement. Lots of big, touchy hands. I didn't like it. I mean, I was sure I could hear what sounded like a heart monitor, so maybe that was a good sign. Modern appliances and all.

Maybe I could be a murderer in this life. I mean, my morality might just get in the way, but maybe if I have a traumatic enough experience as a child in this life maybe I could _truly_ convince myself that humans are worthless (except for myself, of course) and unapologetically take their lives.

At the same time, I kind of hope that doesn't happen since I probably shouldn't become a serial killer, for my own mental sanity more than anything else, but, I mean, they'd obviously just be reborn again. Honestly, I was expecting heaven or hell, but _no_ —

 _ **"Why the hell can a premature newborn think?"**_

What.

My thoughts went silent, and, suddenly, my annoyance turned to fear.

 _"Who the fuck is inside my head?"_

The voice went silent for a moment, before speaking again, this time adopting a much more sinister tone.

 ** _"A demon."_**

 _What._

No. Nope. Fuck this shit. Voices inside my head? Oh my god, what if I'm schizophrenic? I refuse to be schizophrenic!

 _"Stop with the fucking sadistic shit, you piece of crap. Why the fuck is there another voice, other than my own, inside my head?"_

A loud cackle rang through my mind, which sparked an eerie sense of familiarity. Maybe I had just watched too many horror films in my previous life, but I couldn't shake the feeling of knowing I had.

 ** _"Let's just say, I'm your mother."_**

Oh. I guess that's why.

 _"Are you the fucking Ichibi?"_

Silence ensued.

Holy fucking _shit_.

I couldn't exactly _control_ my body yet, but I grimaced mentally. Even though all my senses felt sensitive and unused to the phenomenon of being outside of the womb, I desperately tried to listen to the voices around me, trying to figure out just what the hell was going on. Reincarnation was bad enough, but _this?_ I _needed_ to focus on the voices around me—I needed to get some semblance of what was going on. If I focused, the sound would become discernible. Hopefully.

"Rasa, what was it you and Karura named her again?"

Well, at least I was a girl.

Wait, Rasa? _Karura?_

Oh, my god.

Was I—

"Gaara."

This was a joke.

That couldn't be my name. That couldn't be who I was. This was some sick afterlife practical joke. It had to be. God just really wanted to scare me so I'd be more content with hell, right? I was in a coma. The car hitting me put me in a coma! This was a dream—this was all a messed up, sick, weird dream. I didn't want this. This—this was fictional. This wasn't real. Oh, my god. No. No. No.

"Her name is Gaara."

Well, at least wasn't schizophrenic.

But I might just actually end up being a serial killer.


	2. How To Terrorise a Tailed Beast

**More crack goodness!**

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How to Terrorise a Tailed Beast

I had kind of come to terms with it. I wasn't going to wallow in despair and self-pity. Hey, I could've ended up anywhere. Here, I didn't face a life sentence for killing someone. Instead, I would be taught the most efficient way of doing so. It was a win-win, really. I found out what had happened after death and I got to live a life where my opinions and actions would be far less _deviant_.

 _"Do I have eyebrows?"_ I asked the tailed beast inside me, once again.

Shukaku, once again, became positively hysterical. **_"I don't know, brat!"_**

I was thoroughly convinced that the one-tail hates me.

I had only been here for three days.

I honestly never imagined that the one and only Ichibi could _ever_ be creeped out by a human, but I had managed to achieve just that. A rather formidable feat, in my opinion. When I told him I had been reincarnated with only certain memories intact, he didn't believe me (and reasonably so, I suppose—but at the same time he was a goddamn chakra sand raccoon monster _thing_ , so it shouldn't have been that much of a stretch) so then I told him I was the demon and I had taken over a baby's body so that I could terrorize humans. He chose to go along with the whole reincarnation thing after that, but I personally think the second statement held more truth than the first.

I left out the fact I came from a world in which this one was entirely fictional and that I knew how the future was going to play out, however. Honestly, I didn't even know how to approach that topic— _oh, by the way, everything in this world was drawn onto some picture books in my previous life so I can tell you how the next eighteen or so years are going to go and we can stop the impending fourth shinobi war together and the incredibly hot tyrant that is Madara Uchiha?_ Yeah, I don't think so.

I had managed to convince him that a God had managed to fuck up somewhere and the only thing I didn't remember was who I was or what I did in my last life. Everything else though, like language and knowledge on the elemental nations, I remembered. He wasn't entirely convinced, but what the hell else was he supposed to believe? Thus, I had won.

And I was _determined_ to find out whether I had eyebrows! I didn't want to be fated to a life without eyebrows, damn it! I guess I didn't really have to be worried about bullying if all the kids in this life are too terrified to talk to me as they were with Gaara—the original Gaara—despite the fact he tried to be nice to them and was an adorable innocent baby that just wanted friends, but I still wanted eyebrows regardless. The struggle of drawing them on everyday in my previous life after plucking them into nonexistence at the age of thirteen was not something I wanted to go through again.

I had only just about processed the fact Gaara didn't actually exist. Not in the same way, anyway. I mean, I wasn't even the same gender. I guess I was kind of thankful for that, but I was still kind of distraught over the fact I had been reborn in this world and wouldn't actually be able to meet him. He was my first anime crush, damn it! Even _before_ he stopped being a sadistic bloodthirsty killer! I couldn't love my favourite sand boy. No, instead I had to _be_ him—as a female!

I guess it wasn't as much as a burden as being reborn as a female Naruto would've been. As much as I would've loved being Kurama's jinchuuriki, which I can never admit to Shukaku, the burden of saving the whole world and also maybe becoming Hokage in lieu of the original _and_ stopping Sasuke's whole revenge emo phase _as well as_ becoming one of the strongest shinobi to ever exist might've been just _a_ _bit_ too much for me to handle.

I mean, I kind of have the burden of becoming kazekage and all (and, yes, I am letting the invasion of konoha happen and I am letting my father be murdered because I _do_ want to become the kazekage) but that was slightly less of a burden. Plus, I'd get to fight alongside all the other kage against Madara, which was pretty cool.

Ah, Madara. You sexy antagonist.

I really had to try not to screw up the entire timeline. I could mess it up here and there, but I didn't really have any plans to prevent the entire shinobi war. One could interpret that as selfish, but I choose to interpret it more as a desire to see some good ol' destruction and a fight that would cause legends to be born.

Maybe it was just a _bit_ selfish.

I also had absolutely no idea who I could be all _monogamous_ with, i.e. 'date', in future. If anyone. Ignoring the fact Naruto was going to become Hokage so it would therefore never work anyway, I simply wasn't attracted to blondes (unless you're Ino Yamanaka or Deidara). God, why did Deidara have to be the one who kidnapped me? He was _handsome_.

Okay, that's one part of the storyline I'd debate on changing. I didn't exactly want Shukaku being extracted from me, however irritating and short-tempered he may be. Gaara was a powerhouse even without him, but the desert tanuki was growing on me.

And I wanted huge chakra reserves.

Sasuke was also a no-go for dating. For multiple reasons, however sad they may make me. And Kakashi? I _wish._ God, almost all the dateable guys were from Konoha. Or rogue ninja. There were barely any even moderately relevant suna characters! At all! Only my brother, who is very obviously not an option. And Shikamaru would end up marrying my sister and— _holy fuck I have an older sister._ I never had one of those in my old life. That would take some getting used to.

Would I fight with her over makeup and clothes? Or knives? Who knew. Hopefully the latter. Would I even need to use knives considering what would become my skill set?

 _"Surely you know whether I have eyebrows?"_ I whined desperately in my head. The connection to Shukaku was odd—I had to direct a thought to him for him to it, which was harder said than done. He couldn't hear all my thoughts, he just knew when I was thinking. Which is all the time, I guess. Except when I'm sleeping. If that counted. I hope not, because I had a tendency to get some weird dreams, and I really didn't want Shukaku teasing me for them.

 ** _"Why the hell would I know that?!"_** The tanuki shrilled, causing a sharp pain to ring through my head. This, with me being a newborn and all, caused me to cry out in pain as a baby does. And Rasa, being in the bed next to my crib, was awoken from his sleep.

 _"For goodness sake, now look what you've done, you insufferable raccoon!"_ Honestly, I just think he didn't like me because I had ruined his plans for him to pretend to be my mother (which was weird, anyway) and turn me into a homicidal maverick to quench his bloodlust.

I had been staying in a private hospital room, being premature and in and in special care and all, so _'my dad'_ had been staying in a hospital bed next to me. I hadn't seen my siblings yet, and Rasa was a grieving mess. He was ridiculously well put together when people were around, though. I guess that was a perk of being a ninja. The ability to hide emotions.

It kind of sucked knowing my mum was dead. A lot. I knew she loved Gaara—or, _me_ —so much that the sand would always protect me, and that was kind of something I didn't have in my previous life. A mother who showed that much love for me. And now I had to grow up without her.

Ha. That hurt just a bit. But I guess I was kind of used to any sense of normality being thrown straight out of the window.

I continued to wail, and Rasa rushed out of the room. Everything was still a tiny bit of a blur and I was super sensitive to sound and the air was so _cold_ , but it wasn't anymore incapacitating than being a baby already was. Even through my screams I could make out the sound of approaching hurried footsteps and panicked huffs from the nurses.

The nurse was clearly concerned, but I was breathing fine, and I had been fed two hours prior, so I wasn't particularly hungry. I didn't need changing, either.

"I think she just needs to be held, Kazekage-sama. She's rejecting all food I've tried to give her and her vitals are all perfectly stable. The incubator's heat is the same, also. Babies need a lot of physical contact, as you know from your previous two, so I'd recommend it." Her voice was soothing, although nervous around my father. She was a mousy-blonde rather plain-faced woman, but she had kind eyes. And being in her arms for even a brief few minutes had calmed me immensely. My head didn't even hurt anymore, so I wasn't entirely sure why I was still straining my vocal chords like this. If anything, my screaming was giving me a headache, but I didn't exactly have control over my actions yet.

Hesitantly, he took me from her arms, and part of me wanted to spit at him.

But, alas, I didn't. I didn't even scream or flail in protest. It was tragic, really.

He didn't look at me with hate, but there was an unmissable amount of contempt in his eyes. I suppose it wasn't entirely unreasonable, since I was the reason his wife died. Then again, I was his child too, not just hers. I was his flesh and blood.

(And it was also partly his fault. He was the one that put the Ichibi inside while Karura was still carrying me.)

Even despite the fact I didn't have the fondest feelings toward the man whose sperm I came from, my baby body couldn't help but be calmed by the calming movements and the warmth and the heartbeat, which had increased just a bit when he first took hold of me. Maybe, just maybe, being a girl may alter the course of things, as wrong as that may be.

But I'm not entirely sure I wanted it to, because I still knew of the way he treated _the original._ I would remind myself of it everyday, because I couldn't let myself forget the events which made Gaara the way he was. As stubborn and spiteful it may be, I wouldn't let myself forget all the assassination attempts, or the way he decided his son was more a weapon than a person. Or how he made his, or now _my_ , uncle strip away every ounce of trust and love that Gaara had. I didn't want to forget everything he could do to me just to forge some kind of...relationship between us. I couldn't, knowing he was capable of all of that.

I had already dealt with parents who had emotionally (and often physically) neglected and abused me. This wouldn't be so much different. Just an annoying repeat. Maybe karma chose this life for me for a reason. Who knows. _Whatever_. There was legal murder in this life. It compensated.

Gaara's story was just as traumatic and sad as Sasuke's. If it wasn't for Naruto's "talk-no-justu", he would've forever been a sadistic murderer who saw no value in humanity.

...Maybe karma was being nice to me.

* * *

I was nearly three years old—no, not three days, three _years_ old—before I was finally able to see myself in a mirror.

And the scream I let out had left both Shukaku and my siblings believing me to be the weirdest thing on earth, but I didn't particularly care, because I _fucking had eyebrows_. It was a blessing, even if they were ever so slightly thinner than the average person's.

It wasn't only my eyebrows that had made me scream, however. No, it was also the fact that I had every emo's wet dream— _permanent eyeliner._

Permanent fucking eyeliner.

As much as I had already inherited the thin black line around the eyes from my father, it was enhanced by the fact I had a tanuki as the bijuu inside of me. It was kind of like Naruto's whiskers, in that sense—it was a product of being exposed to the bijuu's chakra in such heavy quantities prior to being born. Naruto had whiskers, I had raccoon eyes. Perhaps it was slightly lesser than what the original Gaara had, but I definitely didn't mind. It was amazing, regardless.

And the blood red hair—my hair was long enough for me to see it and know its colour already, but I hadn't seen it in its full glory. I probably could've been mistaken for an Uzumaki, but it wasn't quite the same colour as Kushina's. More like Nagato's, if anything. Or simply Gaara's.

And the _eyes_. There was something positively fascinating about my pupiless, sea green eyes. Like oceans one could get lost in, a romanticist may say. But, alas, I wasn't one. So, to me, they were simply, brilliantly _creepy_.

No wonder Kankuro and Temari were weary with me, even despite only being four and five years old themselves.

I tried to play with them, I did, but it seemed my father was already putting ideas in their heads. Their hadn't been any assassination attempt yet since I wasn't a cause for concern _just_ yet and, while I didn't have control of Shukaku's chakra or the seal, it wasn't weak enough that he could take over my body were I to fall asleep. Not yet, but it was growing weaker. I tried not to worry. I was growing closer to him, even if he still refused to tell me his name to this day.

Rasa putting ideas into their head didn't exactly please me. It was really quite frustrating, because they were _scared of me_. I understood that they were too young to really get it, they'd just listen to whatever their father said, but the label "demon" was already beginning to float around. And I was _adorable!_ In maybe a bit of a creepy way, with the eyes and hair and all, but I was still adorable! Not demon like _at all_. Just bratty, sometimes.

It only added to my disdain for the man that was my father. It kind of made me wanted to show him what a real demon was. And Shukaku didn't miss his chance to play with that idea when I let the thought slip.

 **"We can unleash hell on these runts!"** Was his wording. He couldn't control me, so his only option was to tempt me. And, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a tiny bit tempted. Just a tiny bit.

Not yet, though. I didn't know if my three year old body could handle it, and my father would most likely just kill me on the spot. 'Ninja training' hadn't begun yet, and, while I could already control sand, I wasn't exactly at a level I could take on the kazekage. Or anyone really for that matter. Even with the considerably large chakra reserves.

As much as I wasn't a huge fan of deserts and dryness and _sand_ in general (it was pesky and got everywhere, and I missed the lush green forests and trees of my previous life) being able to manipulate it was pretty damn cool. I called it sand bending, in reference to Avatar: The Last Airbender—which also happened to be one of my favourite TV shows ever—but it seemed to baffle and somewhat annoy everyone around me. They tried to teach me the correct term, but I didn't listen. They all insisted I'd grow out of it but, alas, I would _not_. I simply refused to

It was sand bending, and sand bending it would remain.

(Ideally, I'd be a water bender, but apparently we don't all get what we want. Instead I get reborn as Gaara instead of the Ice Release OC I always imagined!)

But, I digress. Ever since the fated day I looked in the mirror, I could not help but grin devilishly at my own reflection whenever I saw it. I was adorable now, which meant I'd be gorgeous when I was older. A femme fatale, except literally _fatal_.

Placing a mirror in my bedroom was probably a bad idea, since I constantly got distracted by how oddly amazing I looked. God, I was turning into a narcissist! But who else gets to be reborn with naturally blood red hair (actually red, not fake ginger-orange 'red') and permanent eyeliner _and_ pupilless sea foam green eyes?

Fuck it, I'd wear my narcissism with pride.

"Gaara?" A voice called in my doorway, pulling me out of my inner musings. The voice belonged to my one and only uncle, Yashamaru. He was growing on me which was...annoying, to say the least. He was the only family member that didn't look at me with prejudice or contempt or _fear_.

 _(He's going to try assassinate you—don't you dare get to close. You can't get too close.)_

I looked at him, smiling lightly as I did so.

"Your father has requested you."

My smile dropped, forming into a pout, and I saw Yashamaru's own smile falter. I turned my gaze to the floor, and crossed my arms over my chest in an attempt to show some semblance of defiance. I knew I'd have to go, but that didn't mean I wasn't going to protest.

"Nope!"

Yashamaru knelt down next to me. "C'mon, Gaara. He just wants to talk to you. He cares about you, you know."

I resisted the urge to laugh. He was kidding, right?

"I don't believe you." I mumbled, keeping my gaze on the floor.

"He's your father. He does, really..." I didnt respond. Yashamaru sighed. "What if I told you he wants to speak to you about something to do with your ninja training?"

My head perked up, and I stared at Yashamaru with wide eyes. I never shut up about ninja training since turning two, and everyone insisted I was too young, much to my annoyance and dismay. If Yashamaru was lying just to get me to go, there'd be serious consequences. One cannot lift up a child's hopes like that unless they intend to deliver.

I swallowed nervously and furrowed my brows together. "You _promise?_ " I squeaked in my tiny voice, my pout never leaving my face.

The look that came over Yashamaru's face was priceless. If there was anyone I could charm with my sheer cuteness, it was my uncle. He was in love with me, I could tell. How _couldn't_ you be, once you got past the whole 'demon' thing. Everything I did was endearing.

Well, except maybe when I used my sand to rip off the heads of my dolls and teddies. But, I mean, it was more fun than playing with them! My dad was the kazekage anyway—he had more than money to replace them.

I mean, I didn't ruin them _all._ There was one extremely old and fragile one which sat on my bed which supposedly once belonged to my mother, so I didn't touch that one. But the rest were new and replaceable. I didn't understand the big issue, or why Kankuro would look at me so incredulously whenever I did it. Children were inherently destructive.

"I promise." Yashamaru reassured, offering his pinky to me. I curled my own pinky around his, a lopsided grin appearing across my face as I did so.

I quickly rose to my feet and followed behind him. Our 'home' was simply the a closed off section of the middle floors of the Kazekage building, which was _extremely_ large. It made sense, since it meant Rasa was never too far from his post should duty call, and it meant that the Suna anbu could constantly protect and access the kazekage. That, and the fact that Suna didn't exactly work in the same way Konoha did. The position of kazekage was more hereditary rather than...democratic, unless under certain circumstances such as a heir not being born. So, the kazekage's children living in the building did make sense.

We reached the door of my father's office, which was on the ninth and top floor, and I couldn't seem to get rid of the lump in my throat. I had always been used to the fear of my parents hurting me, but it was was different with Rasa—he had yet to show any signs of physical aggression toward me. He was hostile, but it was the nerves of knowing what he could do—what he would try to do—that got to me.

My parents in my previous life, shit as they were, never tried to kill me. Not actively, anyway.

Yashamaru knocked. I heard a muffled "come in" through the door, and tried not to hide too obviously behind Yashamaru's leg. The man hadn't even tried to hurt me yet—I didn't even know if he would! Mustering up all the courage I could, I forced myself to stand with more confidence, and moved in front of my uncle's leg, much to his surprise.

(But my father's expression was unreadable, once again.)

"You called for me, father?"

"Gaara," he began, "You must address me as Kazekage-sama when in my office."

 _Cold._

I faltered, taken aback for a moment. "Y-yes, Fath—Kazekage-sama."

"Good. Now, as you're approaching the age of four, the elders and I have made the decision that we should start your shinobi training as soon as possible. You begin tomorrow, under the training of specially appointed sensei. Yashamaru will overlook it. Make sure you're awake and ready to begin at 6." He paused for a moment, eyeing me up and down. "That is all."

(Expressionless still. Just give me _something_. Please.)

Blunt and to the point as always. Any happiness I had for the beginning of my shinobi training seemed to wane. "Will I be with Temari or Kankuro?" I queried.

"No. They are both being trained separately." Was all he responded.

"Oh. I see." I grabbed Yashamaru's hand and held my head up high, not exactly sure what I was going to achieve out of what I was about to attempt. "Well, thank you, _Otou-san_." I stressed calling him father, making sure he knew it was on purpose.

Rasa breathed in heavily through his nose as I turned around and began walking to the door, clear pride in my step. "I said—"

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever, old man." I interrupted, and Yashamaru covered his mouth in an attempt not to laugh as Rasa spluttered.

 _I'm only three_ , I wanted to add, but it would've made no sense coming from a three year old. Sometimes I worried that my presence and actions were already causing a ripple—some sort of butterfly affect—and fucking up the entire planned course of action. I already knew my personality was different to what Gaara's was. Even if it wasn't, simply being a girl could've already messed everything up. _I_ could be messing everything up.

But there was too much fun in terrorising Shukaku for me to stop.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I hope you all enjoyed this! If any of you follow my other story, Yuki no Usagi, you might have caught the reference I did to it in this chapter. Anyway, updates will become more frequent after I've finished GCSEs, so bear with me until then.**

 **Leave me any thoughts, since I love to read them!**


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